


Swingin' Party

by KiSierra



Series: Pure Heroism [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, McCall Pack, Mystery finally Solved, confused puppy Liam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 18:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiSierra/pseuds/KiSierra
Summary: When he comes into the house the next day, somewhat apprehensive, he’s more surprised than he should be to find Stiles’s usual place on the couch empty. His two books, Rubik’s cube, headphones, and every other toy he always leaves scattered around the living-room in a way that makes Lydia frown in displeasure - they’re all absent. As if they were never there. The place looks so tidy and empty it takes him a moment to get used to it.They eat breakfast without Stiles again and neither Scott nor Lydia mention him or the still-vacant fourth seat. Liam sees the way their eyes avoid it and decides not to ask.\\In which Liam learns there is much more going on underneath the surface. Or, he’s finally getting answers.





	Swingin' Party

**Author's Note:**

> Look at that! I didn't abandon this series after all!
> 
> Hopefully the second part of this one shot will come up soon.
> 
> Lyrics are from Lorde's song Swingin' Party.

_ If being wrong's a crime _

_ I'm serving forever _

_ If being strong's your kind _

_ Then I need help here with this feather _

**_._ **

* * *

**.**

There’s that saying, that it gets worse before it gets better. Liam’s pretty sure whoever said that was talking about him.

He was sort of uncomfortable around Scott at the beginning, even afraid of him on some level (obviously he’s not a very good judge of character), before he discovered what a great alpha and greater friend Scott is. Then there was Lydia, who Liam thought was a little cold and a lot bizarre, but turned out to be caring and nice and just awesome in general. And Derek, well. He looked angry and hostile but once Liam changed his attitude, so did he. He even helped Liam with controlling the shift. 

And certainly, before all of the above, was Stiles. Liam was sure he was screwed with a pack member who hates his guts, but Stiles was just trying to help him. They’re already getting along much better.

Without an exception - things always got worse before they got better when it came to lake house and Liam’s werewolf life.

So he is starting to think it’s safe to assume he’s made it through the hardest part. 

Only, he didn’t. At all.

He doesn’t see it at the beginning. He comes to the lake house as usual and lets himself in (he realized knocking isn’t very important anymore), and finds Stiles in the living room. He has two books open in front of him, the deep-purple one and the chestnut-colored one, his brow creased, not raising his face when Liam stops in front of him curiously.

“Hey,” Liam says casually. “What’s up?”

Stiles looks up, still frowning. “Oh, Liam, hey. Sorry, I’m just…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence and the silence hangs in the air uncomfortably. Stiles has his arms crossed and shoulders slightly hunched in a tired way, closed-off way. There’s a faint, almost-too-subtle-to-pick-on smell in the air around him, and a strange one too. Liam tries not to sniff too obviously and all he manages to catch is something unidentified and unpleasant. 

He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. 

“What are you reading?” he asks in an attempt to keep the conversation from an awkward death. Stiles looks down at his books again, lips tightening. 

“Just something,” he mumbles, and his voice is grave, almost dark, and Liam stands there and thinks that it’s about to be bad again. That Stiles’s good attitude is over and done for. 

But then Stiles straightens suddenly, his eyes focusing again. A smile stretches on his face, a little too abrupt and wide. “Forget about it. What about you? Going on a run with Scott, right?”

“Um, that was the plan,” Liam answers awkwardly. Stiles raises his eyebrows in question, almost too at-ease. “But I, um, I don’t want to run. I want to fight. To train.”

Stiles actually looks surprised at that. Liam scratches the back of his neck. 

“Because of our little run in with the two rouge werewolves?” Stiles prods, and his eyes and voice are sharp but he looks friendly, undemanding. Liam nods and when Stiles grins deviously it’s mostly nice - he’s still not used to them laughing together - but it’s also a little unsettling. He doesn't know why it makes him uncomfortable. 

“About time. I bet watching you kick some idiot’s ass would be hilarious.”

“What idiot?” Scott asks as he bounces down the stairs, his eyes sparkling with his usual cheerfulness. 

Stiles has a smirk spread all over his face. He closes his books and stretches his arms widely. “Apparently Liam here wants to follow your footsteps and become a superhero. You gotta train him now. Man, that’s going to be precious. Please don’t keep it quiet.”

He stands up and turns to the stairs, shaking his head like it’s some epic joke. Liam squints at him. “Wait, you’re not coming?” 

Stiles started joining the training sessions again, and this time he always stays quiet and doesn’t interrupt unless he has some advice or a joke to share. Liam actually enjoyed his company now that Stiles isn't actively trying to upset him, even when the jokes were directed at him. It’s always on the level of friendly banter, never personal or hurtful. And he knows Stiles pokes fun at Scott all the time. It’s his way of getting familiar with people.

Liam even heard him jabbing with Lydia once. He’s probably the only person alive that can do that without getting her famous death glare and some very pointed remark that will put him in his place for the next lifetime. Lydia just answered back _ ,  _ sarcastic and amused, and Liam shamelessly stared at the couple in awe.

“Hm? No, not today,” Stiles answers, already out of sight. “Have fun you two!”

Liam wants to ask if something’s wrong with him, but Scott is already talking. “So what, fighting now? You wanna get better in case something like the werewolves from three days ago happens again?”

“Yeah,” Liam admits. “And you can tire me out just like with the running. I just... wasn’t ready that day, and if Lydia wasn’t there to knock out that beta I would’ve been crushed. So, yes, I’d like that.”

Scott nods, eyes serious but smiling. “Alright. Let’s show you some moves.”

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn’t really give Stiles’s somewhat strange behavior any thought, not until a day later he walks into the house and sees Stiles sitting in the living room - and the only acknowledgement he gets from the about-to-be-senior is a short, almost curt nod, before he pushes his way up the stairs, not saying a word. Liam can only stare as he hears his door shutting close.

Scott shows up next to him as if on a cue. “Hey, Liam.”

Liam blinks at Stiles’s now-empty place on the couch, ears heating up in embarrassment. “Did I, uh, offend him somehow?” Stiles didn’t act this way since Liam’s first days here, after the tree-trunk incident, and even then he was always… well, maybe not attentive, but at least polite. Sort of.

“No, of course not,” Scott answers. “He’s just having a… bad day. Dinner with his dad didn’t go so well last night.”

“Oh. Okay,” Liam says, a little hesitant. That nod seemed worse than that. Too hostile to be shrugged off. It makes him mentally reel back from the comfortable position he thought he found for himself in the lake house after he and Lydia talked four days ago. “I didn’t know he went on dinner with his dad,” he says-asks instead, because that’s new, and he’s still unsettled.

Scott doesn’t elaborate but he senses his discomfort. “Come on, don’t give his attitude too much thought. It’s nothing.” He nudges his shoulder. “Lydia made breakfast.”

Liam looks away from the stairwell, trying to put a smile on his face. “Is it her pancakes?”

“The one and only Martin recipe.”

He lets himself get pulled to the kitchen. Lets himself forget that Stiles didn’t even look at him directly while he up and left, mouth set in a tight line. “Does that mean she’s eating with us today?”

Lydia looks up from her vegetables-filled plate. The table is already set for three other people, a pile of hissing pancakes in the middle. “I managed to find you some time in my busy schedule,” she says sarcastically. “Sit down before they’ll get too cold.”

She isn’t even trying to smile at him, but her eyes are alive, not shielded with any mask anymore. Liam’s smile becomes genuine. “Yes, ma’am.”

He manages to ignore the fourth plate on the table, the one that stays clean and empty throughout the whole meal.

 

* * *

 

 

When he comes into the house the next day, somewhat apprehensive, he’s more surprised than he should be to find Stiles’s usual place on the couch empty. His two books, Rubik’s cube, headphones, and every other toy he always leaves scattered around the living-room in a way that makes Lydia frown in displeasure - they’re all absent. As if they were never there. The place looks so tidy and empty it takes him a moment to get used to it.

They eat breakfast without Stiles again and neither Scott nor Lydia mention him or the still-vacant fourth seat. Liam sees the way their eyes avoid it and decides not to ask.

His training with Scott goes pretty well. The true alpha is never afraid to go hard on him, and it’s exhausting, but Scott praises him with a huge smile every time he gets a move right and it’s satisfying. Much better than running, anyway.

Lydia takes one look at him afterwards and sends him to the shower, probably for his sake just as much as it’s for hers. He makes it quick and cold and he feels much better when he gets out, a feeling that only intensifies when Scott lends him some of his old clothes and tells him to bring some of his own for future showers. He tries not to smile too brightly in response, but if Lydia’s quiet snort is anything to go by, he’s failing miserably.

His lesson with her is quiet and peaceful, much like the last three they had since they talked. Neither of them ever brings up her kidnapping again, but there’s understanding in the air, and he no longer walks on eggshells around her. He’s being himself, same as she is, facial expressions or not.

He waves her goodbye when they finish for the day, shouting to Scott that he’ll see them tomorrow. Honestly, as he walks into the kitchen for one last snack, he’s feeling so content with the good day he had he doesn’t even think about Stiles.

That’s why Liam stops right on his tracks when he sees him. Stiles is leaning against the counter limply, one hand holding a closed beer bottle, the other one covering his eyes. Liam just stares, momentarily frozen. After a few seconds of silence Stiles breathes out and drops his hand from his face.

He has bags under his eyes again. His shoulders are hunched down in a familiar way, the way they were before he got into his good mood that lasted long enough for Liam to think it might not be a mood.

Obviously he was mistaken.

They look at each other for a while. Liam shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly, uncertain of what exactly he’s supposed to do. Stiles’s forefinger is tapping restlessly against the bottle, but apart from that he’s oddly still. Tired, it seems. Spikes of the unpleasant smell Liam sensed around him yesterday sneak into his lungs, still too faint to make any sense, and he reigns in the urge to start sniffing loudly until it does.

Eventually it’s Stiles that breaks the silence. “Liam,” he says hoarsely. He even sounds bad. “How’re you?”

“Uh, I’m good,” Liam stammers. “How - how are you?”

Stiles smirks, and it’s not even remotely friendly. “Oh, I’m great, never been better,” he says sarcastically, focus shifting to the bottle in his hands as he moves to open it.

Liam winces, unsure and fidgeting all over again. Stiles isn’t looking at him anymore, eyes closing as takes a few long swigs of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows lengthily. And suddenly Liam feels a pang of something else in his stomach, something hot and angry.

He didn’t do anything. Stiles can’t treat him like this, however bad he seems to be feeling, if he didn’t even do anything to deserve it.

He’s not a stranger here anymore.

Before he can think of anything to do next to express his opinion, Stiles opens his eyes and he’s looking at him again, that amber color clear and pale in the light.

“I bought groceries last night,” he says. “We were out of a few things and I figured I had nothing better to do. Anyway, I got you that ice cream you liked. It’s in the freezer. Make sure Scott doesn’t eat it when you’re gone.”

Liam gapes at him. “You - you got me that Dr. Sparkles brand? With the butterscotch sauce?”

Stiles snorts. “If it tastes as good as that name implicates, I’ve gotta have a spoon.”

And again, Liam only stares, speechless. He mentioned that ice cream  _ once, _ days ago, before he and Stiles were actually talking. It used to be the brand his grandparents always had stashed for him when he was younger. His earliest memory from Beacon Hills is messily eating that, hands and face sticky with the sugary treat.

But that ice cream was always pretty hard to find and after his grandparents passed away he never saw it again. He has no idea where they were getting it from; he has no idea where  _ Stiles  _ got it from.

The guy in question doesn’t wait for him to form the words, he’s already leaving. “Have fun. Don’t eat it too loudly.”

“Wait, wait,” Liam hurries to say. Stiles turns back to him, eyebrows raised. He looks awfully mocking with the shadows under his eyes, but Liam’s almost sure he’s not.

“You didn’t have to - I mean, I’m sure it was a nightmare to find,” he stammers, ears heating up again. Stiles just rolls his eyes and resumes his way up the stairs.

“Eat your ice cream, Liam.”

Liam turns to the fridge to do as he was told, locating the gift almost immediately. He frowns with confusion as he takes it out.

It’s not exactly an apology, he decides later, the sweet taste still in his mouth. Stiles isn’t really the kind of guy to just apologize. Not when he looks so edgy and tired, anyway. Not to Liam. His way to say things like that is in acts, not words. So maybe he’s trying to say… that it’s not personal. It looks that way, obviously, after yesterday when he left right when Liam came in, but he also skipped breakfast. Twice. Maybe other meals too. And Scott and Lydia didn’t say anything, like it’s not important, but maybe that’s the problem. He would expect them to bug the guy until he gave in and joined them, like the boys did to Lydia once when she got too busy with Derek’s books. But no.

Something is wrong enough with Stiles to make his two best friends leave him alone.

Liam’s back to be left behind, he’s aware of that. The three seniors-to-be know each other too well to not know what’s the problem. But he’s still the newbie, and it’s Stiles’s choice whether to talk to him or not.

Well then, he thinks to himself. He’s just gotta make Stiles see that he can trust him too.

 

* * *

 

 

Surprisingly enough, Stiles is there in the next morning. His things are still absent from the living room, probably in his room now, but he is there and he sits through breakfast with them and he still looks tired and sick, but he’s smirking faintly, and that’s something.

“Are you okay?” Liam asks him quietly when he catches Stiles sitting uncharacterily still in his place, eyes casted downward, staring at nothing.

The older guy looks away, mouth twisting sideways in a way that resembles a grimace more than a smile. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He doesn’t  _ look _ good, but he seems to be annoyed by the question and turns to listen to Scott’s story about the first time they met Derek instead, so that’s all Liam gets. 

Stiles spaces out again a couple of minutes later, this time only for a few seconds, but it seems worse somehow, and that faint, unpleasant smell from before infiltrates the air - he can see Scott’s nostrils flaring and he knows he’s not imagining it - and Stiles scrambles to his feet and cleans his plate hurriedly, muttering that it was fun and he has to go.

Lydia and Liam watch him make a beeline for the stairs without commenting, but Scott gets up and stops him with a hand on his arm just before Stiles leaves the kitchen.

“Hey,” Scott says, and it’s so soft Liam knows Lydia probably can’t hear him. “Is everything alright?”

Liam might be imagining, but he’s pretty sure he sees the veins of Scott’s arm that’s touching Stiles suddenly pulsing, pitch black. But it happens in less than a second, like a fleeting wave, and it might be just Liam and his imagination that started expanding since he learned that he’s a werewolf.

Or maybe it’s not, because Stiles suddenly sags in his place, his taut expression finally relaxing. “Sure,” he says, a little bit calmer. “I’m handling it.”

And then he’s disappearing up the stairs and Scott rejoins the table, and they clean the other plates together before Liam follows his alpha to the other-dimension-bubble behind the house that he still likes so much for another training session. He ends up too occupied with learning new moves and trying to push Scott off to ask about the black-veins thing, but he remembers later, when he’s showered and battling a hard equation in the middle of his lesson with Lydia.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, and she prompts him to continue with a raised eyebrow. “Did I imagine it, or Scott really did something to Stiles earlier? His veins, they were… black?”

He’s still half convinced he imagined it, because it was so quick and he was blinking, but he’s not afraid to ask Lydia. They bridged any distance when she told him what happened to her and why she’s so closed-off sometimes, and he knows he won’t get any warm smiles from her like he gets from Scott, but that’s perfectly okay. He thinks they’re on their way to be called friends.

She nods seriously and tells him about the pain-sucking thing werewolves can do, and he’s brow creases in confusion.

“Why didn’t Scott tell me about it? Is it painful?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a werewolf, as I’m sure you’ve heard,” she smirks. He smiles in embarrassment. “And about Scott, my guess is that he just forgot to mention that. He’s a grown werewolf, in full control of himself, and he never had to teach another werewolf a single thing. Even the one beta he had before - Isaac, who’s in France - was Derek’s beta first and when he joined our pack he already knew most of the things about controlling himself and the moon and all of that. You’re the first Scott has to actually teach everything. It wouldn’t be surprising if he forgets to mention things that look trivial to him.”

“Oh,” Liam says, looking down in thought. It makes sense. Scott was still making a mess of his stories sometimes, dropping pieces of information about his adventures as a werewolf and the dangers he had to face, without any order, confusing Liam and never noticing it until Liam asked what did he mean and what actually happened. Like he forgets that Liam wasn’t there, like it’s just so obvious and clear to him he forgets Liam wouldn’t understand if he won’t explain.

Liam doesn’t blame him, but it still makes him a little worried. He was starting to think he was getting the whole werewolf thing, but apparently he was wrong. What if Scott forgot to mention other things too? Important things?

Lydia must be using her superpowers as a banshee and just as her usual Lydia, because she reassures him as if he asked it out loud. “Don’t worry about it. If there’s something you  _ need  _ to know, he’ll tell you. It’s the small things that he might forget. He thinks about you all the time.” She puts her hand on his shoulder for just a second, pulling back a moment later, but Liam is still touched. It’s the first time she initiated anything like that, and it makes him feel at awe and lucky. Not to talk about her words. 

“Thanks,” he says, almost shyly. She nods once and they’re back to business.

He tries to resume his work and ignore the warm feeling in his belly so he can concentrate, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. The quiet suddenly disappears, music filling his ears, dulled and undefined by the distance but still strong enough for him to lose any trace of focus he had.

He looks at Lydia in confusion, but she’s not looking at him. Her eyes are locked on the door instead, shimmering with raw concern. It’s one of the more exposed expressions he witnessed on her usually blank face.

“What’s going on?” he asks, because she seems to be too deep in her emotions to remember he doesn’t understand.

“Stiles turned on his stereo,” she answers, eyes still staring at the door.

“What?” He never heard it playing before. He would know if he did - it’s far too loud to forget. “Why? He always uses his headphones.” They and the Rubik’s cube are his usual companions wherever he goes, both seeming to calm his spastic nature. 

Lydia finally turns to him. Her voice is hushed, as if she’s afraid to bother the music. “He’s having a bad day. It helps him… focus.”

Liam stares at her incredulously, because how can music so loud help anyone  _ focus,  _ and also because that’s the second time he is told that Stiles is having a bad day and he really wants to know the real explanation.

Lydia doesn’t acknowledge his expression and resumes instructing him with the next exercise. They solve a few more questions like that, talking above the noise, and they make slow progress because of the distracting music but it’s still progress. Then suddenly Lydia straightens.

He knows the way her eyes are glazing, unseeing. It’s the way they always are when she’s about to do something impossible, to tell him something she’s not supposed to know. He hears her breath catching in her throat.

“Oh, no,” she gasps, staring ahead blindly.

“Lydia, what’s going on?” he asks, trying to be gentle, but it just comes out uncertain.

She turns to him then so fastly he almost jumps back. Her gaze focuses on him and turns razor-sharp.

“Liam,” she says slowly, her tone rising slightly - almost subtly - in a dangerous way. “What did you do?”

The music from Stiles’s room gets louder. He blinks, gripping his pen nervously. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Then he doesn’t manage to suppress another jump as his phone suddenly rings loudly, and he sees Kira’s name written across the screen and scrambles to his feet. “Oh, shit! I forgot to tell you - I totally forgot, Kira’s here, we’re supposed to go to -”

Lydia cancels the call before he has time to process her hand is moving. She looks at him, eyes narrowed, and he can’t read anything from her expression beyond that unsettling, faraway concern, but he knows the storming in her eyes is made of other emotions too. Negative ones. “I know that. Hurry, you have to leave.”

He stops shoving his books into his shaggy bag, blinking at her in confusion. “I - what?”

“Hurry!” she snaps, losing her perfect control over her tone in front of him for the second time since they met, and he almost flinches. But instead he reigns it in and just does as she said, pushing the rest of his stuff in his backpack and straightening to follow her. She’s not looking at him, already running (not exactly, not with those gigantic heels, but just as fast) down the stairs, and he stumbles after her.

Outside the house, right in front of the entrance door, there’s a parked car. Kira is in the driver’s seat, her bright smile dimming when her eyes land on the disheveled Lydia.

The banshee’s eyes are wide. Her shoulders shrink, just a little bit, when the volumes of Stiles’s music from inside turn even higher, though she’s not supposed to be able to hear the change with her human ears.

“Go, now. Get the hell out of here,” she breathes.

“Lydia?” Kira asks worriedly as she scrambles to turn on the engine, Liam already seated in the passenger seat next to her, the door closing behind him.

He can’t remember Lydia ever looking so pale, not even in the face of the rogue werewolves. He can hear her heart starting to race, synchronized with the music going even louder. He feels it thrumming through his chest from inside the car.

“If you don’t leave in seventeen and a half minutes, something horrible is going to happen,” Lydia whispers. Liam sees the blood draining from the Kira’s face at the words, hears her heart going into overdrive. The music from the house blares, blowing his ears, only barely allowing other sounds to enter his mind too.

Not another word is exchanged. Kira shifts gears and flies into the road, driving on full speed without looking back once. Liam does look back, and catches sight of Lydia’s back disappearing into the house again in a rush. The silence in the car is almost deadly. He doesn’t dare to ruin it, not with Kira’s still racing heart. Not until they’re settling on the grass on the edge of the preserve, miles away from the lake house, a sandwich that Kira offered him without a word in hand.

He waits until she takes her first bite, then opens his mouth.

“What just happened?”

Kira looks ruefully at her sandwich, as if it’s the food’s fault. “An accident. I was acting carelessly.”

“What are you talking about?” Kira just sniffs, so he sits straighter and tries to catch her eyes. “Come on, I know this was serious, you gotta tell me what’s going on. Is this about Stiles?”

The half-Japanese finally meets his gaze, and there’s something worse than sadness in her expression. Something like anguish.

“I can’t talk about it,” she says dully. 

He’s already shaking his head. “No, come on. I can’t be left behind all the time. After something like this? Lydia looked like the world’s about to end!” Kira’s mouth curls at that, as if the reminder is sour in her mouth. Liam catches her hand.

“Please, Kira. Please, just talk to me. I need to know what’s going on.”

She must be sensing the urgency in his tone, the almost panic behind the need to know, because she lets out a defeated sigh and looks away, tugging her hand to her lap from his.

“I told you before. You know I can’t get too close to that house.” She blinks softly at the trees around them. “Bad things happen when I’m around there.”

He frowns. It has to be for a supernatural reason, right? What else could it be, really. But what? Kira has always been completely normal, as far as he knows. “Why? I don’t understand.”

Kira smiles, though it’s a sad smile. “You know I’m in the pack, right?” Liam’s frown deepens and he mumbles a yes. She tilts her head. “You know what I am?”

She turns her head then, and shows him her yellowish-orange glowing eyes. He holds himself carefully still through his surprise.

“It’s called a kitsune,” she says idly, her shining eyes still trained on his. “The Japanese fox spirit. It passes through generations. My mom is the same as I am, and she’s hundreds-of-years old.” Liam’s eyes widen. “Don’t worry though, I really am seventeen.”

“Thank God,” he splutters. “Your eyes are the same color as Stiles’s!”

She looks away again, her eyes dimming to their original dark color. “Not exactly,” she mumbles, quiet. “But, yeah. Our... origins, are tied.”

He asks more, tries to dig deeper - what origins, how are they tied, what does that mean about Stiles,  _ what’s going on  _ \- but she stops answering. He gives up after a few futile minutes of silence from her and just stares at her instead, brow creased. It’s not like Kira, to act so straight  forward and un-apologising. She returns his gaze, and he sees something unusual in her dull eyes. The same anguish, and pain, and… shame.

“It’s not your fault,” he blurts before he can stop himself. The loss of the happy spark in her eyes unnerves him.

She shakes her head. “I know,” she says. “I’m not the problem here. I’m just one of the casualties.”

She doesn’t look like she believes herself (more like she’s reciting something that someone else claimed to be true) but for some reason, it seems to cheer her up, just a little bit. The spark returns, albeit small and tentative.

Liam smiles. “You know I have no idea what you mean by that, right? You’re just trying to annoy me because you won’t explain anything.” 

She smiles at him charmingly, and he laughs, and they change the subject.

He doesn’t try to question her again, even though the curiosity burns him from inside. He just laughs with her and speaks with her and says the right things to keep it light, or at least he tries, and they’re good.

He needs it to be good, at least with her. He has no guarantee about the rest of their so called pack, after he screwed up today by bringing Kira and not telling anyone, so he makes sure he has her. He can worry about the trio later.


End file.
